Wake Up
by CaigeCollect
Summary: The twisted love story of Mike Mizanin and Morgan Matthews.


"Morgan!' my boss, Claire called from the doorway of my office. I snapped out of the trance I was in and looked up. "Yeah?" I replied. I had been doing research on the guy I was supposed to be interviewing later that afternoon, Mike Mizanin, some wrestler-slash-former reality star. "What time are you supposed to be interviewing that guy?" she asked. "Four, why?" I replied, rubbing my eyes. I hated wrestlers. They were all so...strange. Meatheads. Cocky beefcakey meatheads who pranced around in their underwear on national television and fake-fought one another. "He's here." she told me. I looked at the clock. It was only half past two, so why was he already there? I wasn't ready for him. "Send him in, I guess." I told her. I straightened the papers on my desk and pulled out a pen and the paper that I'd written down all the questions I'd planned to ask the guy. "Hey, I'm Mike." a voice came from over me. I looked up to see a stunningly sexy man, clad in a pair of nice jeans and a leather jacket, with a black and purple faux-hawk and his left hand extended toward me. He had a brilliant smile and sparkling blue eyes. If this was the guy I'd been researching all morning, pictures did him no justice at all. "Morgan." I replied, shaking his hand, unable to look away from him. He smiled slightly. "You gonna keep shaking my hand? It's Ziggler with the handshake gimmick, not me." he said. I let go and looked away, finally. "Sorry...um...have a seat." I replied, gesturing to the two chairs in front of my desk. "Thanks." he replied, sitting down, still smiling. "So...you're early." I said. Not that it mattered anymore, I was completely fine with this gorgeous man sitting in front of me an hour and a half ahead of schedule. "Yeah, I'm sorry. If I need to come back I can. I just had another one of my interviews cancel on me, and I was already close by, so I decided to come on over. I had no idea they would send me on in here, I was just going to sit outside and wait." he said. I shook my head and smiled. "No, no, it's okay. I was just doing a little research on you. I'm sorry to say I'd never heard of you before I got my assignment." I replied. "it's okay. Don't be sorry." Mike shifted in his seat, still smiling. I think I blushed, but I'm not entirely sure. Why had I not heard of him before? "So...I've got a list of questions to ask you for the article, if you want to get started on those." I suggested. "Sounds good." he nodded. He peeled his leather jacket off and underneath he had on a plain, black, skin-tight t-shirt. He was built, but not to a degree of being disgusting. He didn't seem like one of those beefcakey meatheads at all. I couldn't help but stare. Once again I asked myself why I had never heard of him before. "So, I know you're a former reality star...what show were you on?" I asked. Mike smiled and sat forward a bit. "Quite a few actually. I got my start on The Real World though, back in 2001, the Back to New York season." he replied. I scribbled down his answer. "You've been on more?" I asked. He nodded, sipping at the Starbucks cup he'd brought in. "Yeah, Real World/Road Rules Challenges...and Tough Enough, that's how I broke into the wrestling business." he told me. I nodded and scribbled some more. "I guess you get the same questions every interview, huh? What's something that you'd like to be asked?" I asked him. "Wow...um, I guess what you just asked. I have no clue." he told me. "I don't want this to be any interview that your biggest fan could forge. I want to get to know the real you. Who is Mike Mizanin?" I said, balling up the paper and throwing it in the trash can. "It would take a long time, but I can give you a little synopsis." he said. I pulled out my tape recorder and turned it on. "Shoot then." I told him. "Well, I live in California, and I absolutely love it, but sometimes I miss Ohio. I grew up in a small town and my dad owned a deli, so I worked for him from the time I was fourteen until I went to college." he said. "You're from Ohio right?" I asked him. "Yeah, Parma. Close to Cleveland, which is where they bill me from." he replied. "Bill?" I was confused. I didn't speak wrestler. "Yeah, where they say I'm from when they announce me. Not a wrestling buff, huh?" he asked, chuckling. "No, not at all...I've never been into it. Though that may change." I replied. I definitely blushed then. I was flirting with him. "Oh. Why's that?" he asked. "I'm the interviewer, not the interviewee. I ask, you answer." I told him, smiling and shaking my head. "Fair enough...well, I went to college and dropped out to be an actor. So, I moved to L.A. and got on The Real World...did that, then the challenges, got to do a lot of traveling and things as a benefit, which I loved." he said. "I bet...did you always want to be a wrestler?" I asked. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean, when I was on The Real World is when the world got to know my alter-ego, which I use in wrestling as my gimmick, or character, The Miz. The Miz is like my crazy side, he's a bad guy. I enjoy being a heel but sometimes I wish I could be the real me on camera. Don't print that though, I could get in trouble." he said. "So, The Miz is just like...a tough outer shell or something?" I asked. "No, no, The Miz is on the inside, but he only comes alive when the right buttons are pushed, or when the cameras are rolling. I'm actually a nice guy, I love kids, and charity work. I love to travel and see the world, and I've been blessed with a career that allows me to do it all. I just have to be a jerk on-screen." he said. He kept talking as I shot him question after question. Two full tapes and three hours later, I reluctantly watched him walk out the door, as he had to leave for his call time at the arena where they were having the wrestling event that night. I sighed and packed up my things to head home for the night. On the way out the door, I realized Mike had left his jacket behind. I picked it up and draped it over my arm. Maybe he'd still be downstairs or outside. It was highly unlikely, but if he wasn't, I'd just take it by the arena. I cut the lights off in my office and took the elevator down to the bottom floor. There was no sign of Mike anywhere. He'd already gone. The arena was on my way home, so I'd just take it by there. I got into my car and drove out of the parking lot toward home. I turned on the radio and heard a promotion for the event playing over my speakers. I pulled into the back parking lot of the arena where a few security guards stopped me.

"Ma'am you can't go this way, the fan parking is across the street." one told me. "I'm not a fan, I just wanna return this jacket to The Miz, he left it in my office." I replied. "Yeah, sure lady, like I said, fan parking is across the street." he said. I pulled my press pass out of my purse and showed it to him. "Can I park now?" I asked. He nodded and let me through, directing me into a parking space at the end of the row. I grabbed Mike's jacket and my purse, clipped my press pass to my shirt, and made my way to the back door. I pulled on it, but it wouldn't budge. I rolled my eyes and pushed my hair off of my face, then raised my hand to knock. A big, muscly man opened the door and glared at me,blocking the door. I flashed him my press pass and he let me by. "Now, to find Mike Mizanin." I mumbled to myself. The hallway went left, right, and straight ahead. There were half-naked men walking around, but none of them were Mike. Most of them were built a lot like him, not too big and muscled, and decently good looking. I approached a short, brown haired guy with a bright smile and black rimmed glasses in hopes that he would know where I could find Mike. I tapped him on the shoulder; "Excuse me..." I said timidly. "Hi...can I help you?" the guy asked, his smile never fading. "Um...I'm looking for Mike Mizanin...he...uh...he left this at my office today and I just wanted to return it to him." I said, holding up his jacket. "Ohhh...umm...I'm not sure where he is, but I'll help you look for him!" the guy replied. He was really energetic, and seemingly genuinely happy. "Thanks." I replied, draping the jacket back over my arm. "Oh, no problem! I'm Matt, by the way." he answered, extending his left hand. "Morgan...Morgan Matthews." I shook his hand, smiling back at him warmly, then followed him as he turned and walked down the hallway. He stopped mid step and turned around, still smiling. "You coming?" he asked. "Yeah, sorry. I was just following you.." I replied, walking up beside him. "Oh...I thought I'd lost you." he said. I shook my head, my brown curls boucing. "You don't talk much, do you?" he asked. "I do, I'm just shy around people I don't really know." I answered. "And you're a journalist?" he laughed. "Yeah, I know..." I said, pushing my hair behind my shoulders and looking up from the floor. I then saw Mike walk out of a room to the left, in what looked like a purple speedo with a design on the front, and matching boots. "Good Lord..." I whispered. "What was that?" Matt asked, looking at me. I blushed and smiled, shaking my head; "Nothing, sorry. I'm just gonna give him his jacket and I'll show myself out. Thank you so much for your help, Matt." I replied. "Oh no problem at all! It was nice to meet you!" Matt hugged me gently and nearly skipped down the hallway. I took a deep breath and walked forward. Mike was talking to a blonde guy, shorter than him, but very good looking. He too was wearing a speedo, black and purple, and if he turned a quarter of an inch, I probably would've been blinded by the light reflecting off the rhinestones on the butt of it. I hated to interrupt them talking, so I just stood patiently a few steps away. The blonde walked away a few moments later and Mike turned to walk back into his dressing room. "Um...excuse me, Mr. Mizanin?" I said. He looked up and flashed a smile at me. "Morgan..." he replied. "Hi...um...you left this in my office." I told him, holding out the jacket. He took a step toward me and took the jacket from my hand. "Thank you, so much. This is my favorite jacket. I won it on The Real World." he said, draping it over his arm. "Oh, it's no problem...I just wanted to make sure you had that..." I replied. My palms were sweaty and I felt like my entire body was shaking. His eyes were bluer than any blue eyes I'd ever seen. "I really appreciate you bringing it by. How did you get backstage though?" he asked. I pointed to my press pass, "I used this...I probably shouldn't have, but I did." He nodded, switching the jacket from his left arm to his right. "It's okay, we've all done it at some time...well, not really...but..." he said. "I know what you mean...like using a fake I.D., right?" I replied. "Exactly!" he said, leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah, I had one of those once...I got busted with it at the beach." I told him. I leaned against the doorframe opposite him, feeling a bit more relaxed. "Oh man...I luckily never got busted with mine. My pops found out about it, but he didn't get mad. He laughed at me." he said. "Oh wow, my mom was really mad...she put me on restriction for like three months..."

We both grew silent and stared at the same spot on the floor for at least three minutes before Mike spoke. "Hey, would you like to stay for the show?" he asked. I looked up, my brown eyes meeting his blues. "Um...sure...I have nothing else to do." I replied, shrugging. "Awesome...hang on, let me see where you'll be sitting, then I'll show you to your seat. There's still time before they let all the fans in, so we can sit out there and talk if you want," he offered. "That would be great." I said. "Okay...uh...hang on, just one second." Mike disappeared into the room for a moment and came out a few moments later with a t-shirt on and a ticket in his hand. "Something told me to hang onto this," he said, handing out to me. "You had a ticket to an event you're working?" I asked. He nodded, turning right at the end of the hallway, "They give us comp tickets to give to friends and family when we're close to home." he explained. "I see...that's really cool...we don't get to do anything like that...if I go to events or anything, I never get to bring anyone with me. I think it would be cool though." I replied. He pushed back a curtain and we walked out into the Quicken Loans arena. It looked entirely different than I had ever seen it. To our right was a huge steel stage with a gigantic screen above it, and a ramp leading down to a wrestling ring. There was a thick black barricade surrounding it, with hundreds of chairs on the floor. The risers were all pulled out, thousands more seats in those. "This will all be slam packed in an hour." Mike said, gesturing to the seats. "Wow..." I whispered.

I honestly never would have thought that professional wrestling would draw such a huge crowd. I had no idea it was such a big deal. I didn't watch much TV. Frankly, I hadn't had time for it since high school, which had ended in 2000. All I ever did was read, write, type, study, go on assignments, eat, sleep, and go to the gym. Mike and I made our way to a set of chairs on the front row, behind two black tables with TV monitors built into them and sat down. "Those are the announce tables...King and Michael Cole sit here, and the Spanish announcers sit there. Justin, the ring announcer, sits there, and the time keeper will be right there...uh...camera guys all around..." he said. I found it really sweet that he thought to explain to me what I didn't understand about my surroundings. "It must be strange meeting people who know nothing about you and what you do." I said, sitting back in my seat. "Yeah, it is, but it's also nice...I love what I do, I love my fans, I love the people I work with for the most part, but it's nice to just be Mike sometimes, you know?" Mike said, standing up, leaning against the guard rail. "Yeah, I bet...do you get recognized a lot?" I asked. "Mostly because of The Real World and all that, but yes...I get recognized by WWE fans as a wrestler...but a lot of them don't really care for me." he said, looking off into the distance. "Oh yeah, you're the bad guy, right?" I asked. "Yeah, I've met a few who actually like me, and a ton who meet me just to say they have...and then I've met a few who just tell me how bad I suck and that I don't deserve anything I've gotten in this company, to go back to MTV..." he said. "That's awful." I said. He smiled and shrugged. "It's alright, I'm used to it. I know how hard I work, and what I've earned. That may sound cocky and arrogant, but it's the truth. I know the sacrifices I've made, both mentally and physically, to make it in this business...most of them don't know the half. They hate me, which means I'm doing my job." he said. "Yeah...I just can't imagine you as a bad guy. You seem so sweet." I told him. He laughed. "Oh, I can be a prick...but I try not to be..." he said. "The Miz is a prick...Mike is a nice guy?" I said. "Precisely." he replied, flashing me a smile once more.

"I feel so out of place here. I'm probably not even dressed right for a wrestling event." I said. "You look fine." he replied, laughing. "That's comforting." I said, looking off to the side. He sat back down next to me. "You don't have to stay if you're uncomfortable..." he said. "Oh no, it's not that at all." I replied. "Well, how about grabbing a bite to eat with me after the show?" he asked. "That sounds nice..." I replied, nodding. "Okay, just meet me by that curtain we came through right after the show and we'll go from there, if that's okay." His right hand rested on my right wrist and his left arm was draped over the back of my chair. I hoped he couldn't feel me shaking beneath his touch. "Yeah, that's fine...just...right over there?" I asked, nodding toward where we had entered the arena. "Yeah...I've gotta go back now, they're going to let the fans in here in a few minutes...but I'll see you during the show...I won't be able to talk, but I'll see you..." he said. "Alright," I replied, nodding. Mike stood and I watched him walk away, my mind and heart racing. Had I accepted a date with this perfect, beautiful stranger? Was it a date? When was the last time I had even been on a date? Months? No, it had been at least a year, since I'd dated Cole, my aspiring rockstar ex-boyfriend who had abandoned me for booze and bimbos on the road. I hoped he caught a disease of some kind. The noise level in the arena tripled as fans began flooding in, filling the seats around me. They were of all ages, comprised of both genders,mothers and fathers with their children, both young and old, mostly clad in jeans and t-shirts with pictures or writing on them. I guessed they were wrestling shirts. A lot of them had posterboards in their hands, some of them sloppily decorated with writing, some of them extravagantly done.

An older gentleman took a seat next to me, his eyes the same bright blue as Mike's. "Hi." he said, giving a slight wave. I waved back, smiling. I noticed he had a shirt on that said "I'm Awesome" on the front, just like the one Mike had. "Um...excuse me...is that Mike's shirt?" I asked the man. "Mike who?" he asked. I bit my lip, this was awkward. "Mizanin..." I replied. "Oh, you mean The Miz? Yes, he's my son." the man said. I think my jaw may have hit the floor. I don't know why I was so shocked. They looked exactly alike, minus the fact that his dad was older. They had the same blue eyes, the same jaw structure, the same smile, even their voices sounded alike. "How do you know him? his dad asked me. I opened my mouth to reply, but the arena went dark and a recorded voice came over the speakers welcoming the fans to the event, explaining the rules, and that the show would begin momentarily. The crowd was cheering entirely too loud for Mr. Mizanin to hear my explanation, so I waited until the recording stopped. Hopefully then the crowd would be quiet enough for me to explain myself. However, an announcer hopped into the ring and got on the mic, explaining what would happen in the next few moments before the show started.

He wasn't paying attention to me anymore anyhow. He was standing with the rest of the crowd as the National Anthem played. I had been so zoned out I hadn't noticed it playing, so I quickly stood, my hand over my heart. The crowd remained standing after the song ended, and a video began playing on the big screen over the stage, showing clips of wrestlers with different audio clips before the screen went black and flashed a large symbol that stood for WWE, and then a video of different wrestlers along with some random Nickelback song. Mike flashed across the screen a few times, which made me smile. I became lost in thought as the song finished up, wondering what dinner with Mike Mizanin would be like. A loud whistling and pop from the pyro scared me out of my wits, causing me to stumble backwards into the chairs. I sat down, startled, my heart racing once more. Mr. Mizanin took his seat once again as the hum of the crowd died down, awaiting the start of the event. "First live show?" he asked. "First show ever. I'm not really into wrestling. I just got invited to the show tonight, so I decided to check it out and see what it's all about..." I replied. He nodded, understanding, "So how do you know my son?" he asked once more. "I interviewed him today for an a-" I was cut off by a voice saying "AWESOME" and a catchy rock song with a nice beat. The crowd booed loudly, but Mr. Mizanin cheered. It took me a moment to realize that Mike was making his way down the ramp, a shiny silver and gold championship belt around his waist.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your WWE Champion, The Miiiiiz..." the announcer in the ring said. I clapped, not really sure what else to do.

Mike made his way around the ring, smirking at me when he got to the announcer and took his microphone. He turned and climbed up a set of steps, through the ropes, and stood in the middle of the ring, waiting for the crowd to stop booing him. I had a feeling he'd be waiting a long time. After a moment, most of the booing stopped and Mike brought the microphone up to his mouth. "He's the bad guy." I reminded myself silently.

"You people boo me...I'm from this city...and I've brought way more notariety to Cleveland than the Browns or the Cavaliers could ever dream of doing...I am the WWE Champion, The Miz, and I'm...AWESOME!" The crowd booed louder then, louder than they had before. Once again, a sudden burst of pyro came from the stage and startled me. I looked past Mike and saw the blonde he had been talking with earlier sauntering down the ramp, a smug smile on his face. The crowd had a mixed reaction to him, mostly boos, but there were some cheers. He made his way to the ring and climbed up the steps, a microphone already in his hand. "Miz, Miz, Miz..." the blonde said, shaking his head. "What do you want, Jericho?" Mike said into the microphone. "Oh, you know what I want, Miz...I want that WWE Championship." said Jericho. "Really? Really? You want my WWE Championship, really?" Mike replied. "Yes, Miz, really...and I'm here to take it from you." the blonde said into the mic. I was confused. Hadn't they just been talking backstage? They seemed to be getting along then, why were they fighting now? Had something happened since Mike had went backstage? The roar of a jet engine seemed to rattle the arena as lights began flashing and a double bass kicked off a song and another wrestler emerged at the top of the ramp. I looked up and saw Matt, holding a briefcase in right hand, a broad smile on his face. The crowd was going insane for him, they really seemed to like him. Matt ran to the ring and climbed up onto the corner, holding up his breifcase and flashing the peace sign to the crowd, who was still cheering loudly. The music cut off and the announcer handed Matt a microphone. His smile still hadn't faded. He waited for the crowd to die down a bit before speaking.

"Miz, Jericho...I hate to interrupt, but you two were reaaaaalllllyyyyy getting on my nerves," Matt said. The crowd went crazy once more. "What do you want, Bourne? If you want to cash in that breifcase, then you're just out of luck, kid. I'm facing The Miz tonight, and I'm walking out of Cleveland as the WWE Champion!" Jericho said. The crowd booed him heavily. They did not like that idea. "EXCUSE ME!" a screechy voice came from the speakers. I grimaced. What the hell was that? Everyone's attention was now on the large screen above the ramp, where an angry looking Hispanic woman's image had appeared. "I don't know who you all think you are, but I'm the general manager and I make the matches around here!" the woman said. "Vickie, dear, my apologies...now, if this needs to be further discussed, I shall come to your office and we can do so...but I'm certain you agree that I deserve a title shot tonight, don't you?" Jericho said. "What have you done to earn a title shot, Chris? Nothing! At least, not yet. Tonight, you will face an opponent of my choice. The winner of that match will go on to become the new number one contender for the WWE Championship, and will face The Miz at Survivor Series. Now, as for you, Evan...you know that you have the right to cash in that Money In The Bank contract at any time...so I have nothing more to say to you. Chris, go get ready for your match..." Vickie said. The screen switched back to showing the guys in the ring. Jericho threw his mic down and stormed up the ramp, yelling things that were inaudible. Mike and Matt were still standing in the ring, Matt in one corner, holding his breifcase, Mike leaning on the ropes, watching Jericho leave. Matt hopped down out of the ring, walked over to the ring announcer, and said something into his ear. The announcer nodded and brought the microphone to his mouth. "Evan Bourne has just informed me that he wishes to cash in his money in the bank contract. Therefore, this match is for the WWE Championship!"

A referee climbed into the ring and so did Matt. I guessed Evan Bourne was his stage name, because I was certain that it was the guy who had shown me around backstage. A bell dinged and Mike tried escaping, but Matt grabbed him and stopped him from leaving the ring. Mike pushed him and Matt pushed back, and then the match really began. The action seemed to be really back and forth, with neither man having too much of an advantage. Mike seemed to be wearing down after about ten minutes, though, and Matt knocked him to the ground in the far left corner of the ring. He climbed up the ropes and perched on the corner, throwing up the peace sign before jumping, bending his body in ways that I had never seen before. Cameras flashed madly, the crowd cheering loudly when he landed on top of Mike. The referee slid across the ring, his hand coming down on the mat, once, twice, three times. The applause and cheers were deafening. Matt had just beat Mike, meaning he'd lost his championship. I liked Matt, but I wanted to cry. Mike would be so upset. I felt like jumping over the barricade and helping him up and to the back, but I was certain I'd get in trouble for that. I wondered if I could go on and meet him backstage. His dad seemed calm enough though, so I sat still for a few more minutes.

About halway through the show, my nerves got the best of me. I got up and grabbed my purse, making my way to the curtained area where we had come in at. The security guard tried to stop me, but once again, I flashed my press pass and brushed past the curtain. I looked left and right, but didn't see Mike. I'd just have to find my way to his dressing room again. I took a left down the hallway and walked until I was sure I'd found the right door. I knocked and waited, but there was no answer. I knocked again, still no answer. I took a deep breath and turned the handle, pushing the door open. "Mike?" I called. I didn't see him. I stepped inside the room and set my purse down, deciding to wait until he got back. He was probably talking to his boss, figuring out how to get his title back. "Poor thing...that was so unfair." I thought. I heard a door open behind me and I turned around to see who it was. I saw Mike standing there, dripping wet, in nothing but a towel. "Uh...umm..." I said, shutting my eyes. "Morgan...I...when did you get in here?" he asked. "A minute ago. I...I got bored sitting out there. I'm sorry." I replied, my eyes still closed. "I'm just gonna go back in there and get dressed. I'll be out in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere." he instructed. I heard a zipper and some rustling, my eyes still closed. "I'm going in, you can open your eyes now." Mike said. The door shut and I opened my eyes, staring straight ahead. I didn't budge the entire time he was in the bathroom, which had to of been at least fifteen minutes. He emerged in a pair of jeans, a royal purple button up, with a silver tie and a gray vest over them. His hair was dry, and his faux-hawk was back into place. "You ready to go?" he asked. I nodded, picking up my purse. Mike threw his ring gear in a duffel bag and zipped up his suitcase. He slung the duffel over his shoulder and pulled up the handle on the suitcase, wheeling it behind him. I fished my keys out of my bag and walked beside Mike to the back door of the arena. "Do you want me to drive? We can leave your car here, or you can park it at my hotel until we get done eating..." Mike suggested. "Can we do that?" I asked. "Yeah, the car will be fine left here, or at the hotel, either way. The hotel is just across the street, so..." he said. We stood on the back steps of the arena for a moment. "I'll just leave it here...as long as you think it'll be okay." I said. "It'll be fine." he assured me. I stuffed my keys back into my purse and walked down the steps with Mike to his rental car. He unlocked and opened the door for me, a kind and gentlemanly gesture. I wasn't used to things like this.

Mike closed the door and popped the trunk, tossing his things in, before getting into the driver's seat.

"I know a great spot that's open late...if you don't have anything in particular in mind I'd love to take you there. It's one of my favorite places in Cleveland." he said. "That's fine." I replied, smiling. "Awesome." he answered, starting the car. He turned on his iPod before backing out of the parking space. "Is that Framing Hanley?" I asked. "Yeah, you know them?" he asked, looking over at me. "Know them? I love them...they are my absolute favorite band in the whole entire world." I said. "That's...awesome. Not many people I know like them, or have even heard of them." he replied. "I know, right? I hate that. I did an article on them once, got to interview them and all. I've seen them seven times. They're great." I told him. "Oh man, I've only seen them once. They are really good. What other bands do you like?" he asked. "Avenged Sevenfold, The Used, The Veer Union, Transmit Now..." I said. "Wait, YOU like Avenged Sevenfold? And The Used?" he asked. "Yeah, why does that surprise you?" I asked. "I dunno, you just...don't look like an Avenged Sevenfold fan...or The Used..." he said. "You forget I'm still in my work clothes." I reminded him. "So what are you like out of your work clothes?" he asked. I stared at him for several seconds and tried to collect my thoughts. I knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded. I laughed and shook my head, "Different...not what you'd expect, I guess." He smirked and nodded. "What do you think I expect?" he asked. I looked down at my slacks and button down blouse and back up at him. "Something like this?" I answered. "You mean like...plain Jane?"

He put the car into park and looked over at me. I looked down at my outfit once more and back up at him again. "I guess it is kind of plain isn't it?" I asked. He smiled and nodded slightly. "It is, but regardless of how plain it is, you still look great." I felt myself blush. "So do you..." I answered, not quite sure what else to say. "Oh I know I look good." he replied. My mouth hung slightly ajar. Minus the time he was working, this was the first sign of cockiness I had seen from Mike. I loved it, but I was shocked. "Are you always this cocky? I thought you were only like that when you work..." I said. "I like to think of myself as confident," he replied, opening my door. "Well, you answered my question...because that was utterly adorable. You are too cute." I told him. "The Miz...is NOT cute." I stood still next to the car as he pulled his coat on. "You're starting to confuse me...which one are you right now? The Miz, or Mike?" I asked. He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him, shielding me from the icy wind. "You're the cute one. Not me, my dear." he told me. I looked up to see that we were outside of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, which housed one of Cleveland's nicest restaurants, Muse. "Um...I can't go in there." I said as Mike opened the door to let me in. "Why not?" he asked. "Mike, I look terrible. Look at me...this is a ritzy place...and I'm..." I said, gesturing to my clothing. "Sweetie...you look wonderful. Come on...let's go in." he said, pulling the door open once more. He placed a hand on my lower back and guided me through the doorway. We were promptly seated and the waiter told us their featured dish and gave his recommendations before leaving us with menus and walking away. I scanned over the menu, my eyes wide. Everything sounded wonderful, and I was starving, but there was no way that I was going to be able to pay for a thirty dollar steak, or a seventeen dollar salad. "Um...Mike...I have a problem." I said. "What's the matter?" he asked, looking up. "I can't exactly afford this kind of stuff..." I admitted. "I'm not at all worried about that...you order whatever you like. This is on me," he said. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Absolutely." he answered. "Okay..." I replied, looking back down at the menu. The most expensive place Cole had ever taken me was Olive Garden.

"You ready?" Mike asked. "Yeah. That apple funnel cake salad sounds awesome...but I am not a fan of blue cheese...I wonder if they could leave it off." I said. "Oh, please, please, tell me you're not one of those girls who eats nothing but salads." he replied. "Oh no, not at all! I'm trying to decide between that and steak..." I said. "You could order both, Morgan. I don't mind." Mike said. I licked my lips and nodded. "Okay. If you're sure." I replied. "Can I ask you something?" he said. "You just did...but yes, go ahead." I replied. Mike folded his hands in front of him on the table. "You're a beautiful lady, sweet, and from what I can tell, you're fun to be around..." he started,pausing to think for a moment, "but you're really...I don't know what word to use without sounding like a complete jerk...you're really modest, I guess. Have you never had anyone do things for you?" he finished. "You don't sound like a jerk, and no, not really. My last boyfriend was kind of a bum...he was in a rock band, so he was always broke, and I always had to pay for everything. He took me out and paid for it maybe twice, once being to Olive Garden for my birthday, and his mom gave him the money for that." I said. "Wow...that's...kind of sad. I've never made a lady pay for anything herself. It's just how I am...I guess I'm old-fashioned," he said, shrugging. "Old fashioned is not bad...you don't find many old-fashioned gentlemen anymore," I said. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You also don't find many ladies that appreciate it, either."

Mike and I enjoyed a dinner and a conversation that I personally never wanted to end. I found out that he got a hotel when he was near home because his mother didn't welcome him anymore. She was unsupportive of his career choices despite the fact that he had made it to the very top of the 'career ladder'. He said she had gotten really angry when he dropped out of college to pursue acting, even angrier when he signed a deal with MTV, and when he started training for wrestling, she completely gave up on him. He saw his dad whenever they came to Ohio, two to three times a year, and that was it. They talked on birthdays and holidays, but behind his mother's back. I felt bad for him, but he said that after nine years, he'd learned to deal and move on. We finished dinner and shared dessert, Mike paid, and we stepped out into the frigid air to walk back to his car. He drove slowly down the empty street back to the arena, where a crew was loading boxes and stage pieces into a semi. He parked his car next to mine, but he didn't turn it off, and I didn't open my door to get out. We both sat entirely still, staring at the dashboard. "I really enjoyed tonight." I said, breaking the silence. "So did I. Thank you for going out with me." he replied. "Thank you for inviting me...and for dinner. That was so sweet of you, really." I said. My hand was now on the door handle, but I didn't want to leave. I knew, though, that Mike had a long day ahead of him. He was leaving for the UK, the WWE was doing a two week tour, and he had to fly out that morning at 8 AM. By the time we had gotten back to the arena, it was nearly half past two in the morning. I had to be up at 6 AM for work myself. "I guess I should let you go. I've got to be up early and so do you," Mike said. "I was just thinking about that," I sighed. "Well, I'll walk you to your car..." he said, opening his door. He had shut it before I had time to protest, and was opening my door before I had gathered my purse and jacket. "It's freezing out here." I said, pulling on my coat and wrapping my arms around myself. "Come here." Mike said, pulling me closer to him. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close for a few moments. "As much as I'm enjoying being all warm and toasty, wrapped in your arms, I really do have to go." I said. He nodded and let go, grabbing my hand as we walked to my car. "So, can I call you sometime?" Mike asked as I unlocked my car. "Of course...or text me, or whatever...but I'd love to keep in touch with you." I replied. "My phone's in the car...can you call it? I'll save your number when I get back in there." Mike said. I nodded and pulled my phone out of my purse. Mike gave my his number and I dialed it, allowing it to ring a few times before hanging up. "There ya go. If it didn't show up..umm...I'll text you too, just to make sure you have it." I said. "Alright...well, I'm going to head to the hotel. I'll text you though, and I'll be sure to call you before my flight takes off tomorrow." he replied. I nodded, reaching for the handle on the door. Mike's hand reached out as well, brushing against mine. "Such the gentleman..." I said. "I try..." he replied, taking a step toward me. His hand left mine and he cupped my chin in it as he brought his face to mine. Our lips met for what seemed like forever. I didn't resist, I just went with it. His lips were soft and gentle on mine. I felt something cold and wet touch my nose, causing me to pull away. Snowflakes were falling lightly around us now. "I better get home before this all starts sticking," I said. "Let me know when you make it home so I know you're safe." he told me, hugging me before opening my car door. "I will...and thank you again for everything."

I got into my car and started it, letting the motor warm up before pulling out of the parking lot and driving home to my apartment. I opened the door and shed my snow-covered coat, threw my purse down and tossed my keys on the kitchen counter. I dug my phone out of my purse and texted Mike, letting him know I had made it home.

"Hey. I just walked in the door. It's really coming down out there now! I hope your flight doesn't get delayed." I sent. I began shedding my work clothes and grabbed a pair of pajamas from my drawer. I pulled them on, pulled my hair up into a ponytail, and climbed under the covers, waiting for Mike's reply. I had nearly drifted off when my phone chriped, startling me. "Yeah it is. Sorry it took me a few...glad you made it home safely. If my flight does wind up delayed, do you want to do lunch?" I smiled and hit reply. "It would be nice, but I have a meeting with my boss tomorrow. Maybe next time you're able to come home?" I suggested. I felt awful for having to turn him down, but there was absolutely no way I could get out of my meeting with Claire. I fell asleep texting Mike and woke up late. I rushed to get dressed, deciding to fore-go makeup and practically ran down the stairs to my car, slipping and falling on a patch of ice on the concrete steps. I threw my purse into the passenger seat and slammed my door, frustrated. I had half an hour to make it office. I didn't see it happening, with snow and ice on the roads. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. My car sputtered and choked, and after four tries, I slammed my hands against the steering wheel, completely fed up. I rested my head on my hands, on the verge of tears. I took a few slow, deep breaths and composed myself. By this point, I didn't care that I was late to work. I didn't care if my car started the next time I tried or not, to be honest. I hoped it wouldn't, and that Claire wouldn't be too angry when I called her and told her I wouldn't be coming in. She could conference call me for the meeting. She did it for my snooty co-worker, Allison, every month. It seemed like every time we had a staff meeting, she had PMS. It was possible, but I doubted it was nearly as bad as she put on. I turned the key in the ignition once more, but my car still choked and sputtered. I pulled the keys out, grabbed my purse, and headed back up the stairs to my apartment while dialing Claire's number. "Claire Sanders." She already sounded exasperated. I turned my key in my door and let myself back into my warm apartment. "Claire, it's Morgan. I'm not gonna make it it. My car won't start, I slipped on a patch of ice, so now my entire body is aching...can you conference me in for the meeting?" I asked. "If you don't make it in, then you might as well not even bother coming in ever again, Morgan. I don't have time to deal with this." The call disconnected and the tears brimmed in my eyes. I had basically just gotten fired. Could the day get any worse? I shed my clothes and slipped back into my pajamas before going into the kitchen to make myself a cup of cocoa. I grabbed the tv remote and sat down on the couch, flipping through my three channels aimlessly before turning it off and picking up a book. I leaned back on the couch, propping the book up on my knees, reading while sipping on my cocoa. I felt a bit more relaxed, but I was still upset. The snow was falling hard outside now, and there was absolutely no way I was going to be going to work. I set my mug on the floor and closed my book. I walked into the bedroom and turned my laptop on. A notification popped up, alerting me to new emails. I thought it odd that they hadn't come to my Blackberry, but I clicked the notification nonetheless. Junk mail followed by another junk mail went into the trashbox. However, an email from one Lucas Harvey caught my eye. He was the CEO of a music magazine based in Los Angeles. I had applied for an internship six months beforehand but had never heard a word. So, I started working for the paper in Cleveland. I clicked on the email and read over it.

_Miss Matthews,_

_After a review of your resume, we would like to offer you a position with our company in Los Angeles. If you accept, you would be asked to start as soon as possible, preferably by the first of December, or two weeks from today. Moving expenses will be covered. Please respond promptly._

_Best regards,_

_Lucas Harvey_

_Alternative Music Scene Magainze_

I gaped at the screen. Los Angeles...Alternative Music Scene Magazine...Los Angeles...Mike...Mike...Mike...Los Angeles...I hit reply and rapidly typed a response, accepting and thanking Lucas for the offer. He replied a few moments later, telling me that a moving van would be there on Saturday. The company would fly me to L.A., and the moving van would arrive a couple days later. I'd start on Friday, giving me all week to find an apartment and get to know the city. I replied, once again thanking him, and turned my laptop off, squealing with excitement. I grabbed a suitcase and began packing a bag for the plane. Saturday afternoon, I walked out of my empty apartment after the movers had left and left the keys on the counter. I pulled my suitcase behind me and rode the elevator down to the bottom floor where a cab was waiting outside. It was wet and frigid in forecast for LA that day was seventy-five and sunny and I couldn't wait to be there. Though I knew Mike was in Europe and I hadn't talked to him since the night we met, I was anxious to see him again. I planned on surprising him when he came back from the U.K. I climbed into the cab with a smile on my face and sat back, enjoying my last view of Cleveland for what I hoped would be a long while.

I landed in LA just as the sun was beginning to set. We sat still for a few minutes before we were given the go-ahead to get off. I followed the crowd inside and to baggage claim. I stood back, watching the luggage go around on the revolving belts, hoping I hadn't missed mine already. They all looked alike to me. I walked closer to the belt and watched for my bag. It finally came around nearly fifteen minutes later and as I reached out for it, a male hand also reached for it. Wonderful, my first hour in LA and I was already being mugged. "Excuse me, but that's my..." I stopped, my eyes meeting a pair of sapphire blues. "Morgan...what are you doing in LA?" Mike asked. "I was just about to ask you the same...aren't you supposed to be in Europe?" I answered. "I uh...got hurt...tweaked my knee. Six weeks on the sidelines." he said. "Oh no, that's terrible...I'm sorry." I replied, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, it sucks...I'm sorry I made you miss your bag. I thought it was mine," he told me. "It's fine. What's another fifteen minutes? Especially now. Do you want to go get a coffee or something after we get our bags?" I offered. "Yeah, that would be great. There's a Starbucks downstairs." he replied. I nodded and turned back to the baggage belt, feeling myself blush. I hadn't expected to see him that soon. We both finally had our bags and were sitting inside of a Starbucks Coffee a half an hour later. "I did a skit once for work where I was all hyped up on coffee. It was hilarious." Mike said, sipping at his mocha. "I'll have to see it sometime." I replied, licking whipped cream off of my finger. Mike looked down at his cup. "Yeah, I'm sure you could find it on Youtube," he said. "And what if I can't?" I asked. "Then, I guess you would just have to come to my place one night and I'll see if I have it on video somewhere. I'm sure I do..." he said, still not looking up. "Hmm...well, what about now? Do you have plans? Because I don't." I answered. "No, no plans..." he said. "Do you want them?" I asked, reaching across the table, lifting his chin with my finger. He quit stirring his drink and smirked at me.

Two hours later, Mike and I were sitting on his couch, a bowl of popcorn between us, and "A Nightmare On Elm Street" in the DVD player. It was twenty minutes in and I was already getting scared. I didn't do scary movies. Mike seemed intrigued. He'd missed his mouth a couple of times with the popcorn and it was now sitting in his lap. Another fifteen minutes later, popcorn wasn't the only thing in Mike's lap. I buried my face into his neck and shoulder, his arms around my waist. "Do you want me to turn it off?" he asked. "Yes." I replied. He turned off the TV and chuckled. "Better?" he asked. "Yes." I answered. "Good. Why didn't you say you don't like scary movies?" he asked, reaching over and turning on the lamp. "I don't know. I haven't watched one since I was a kid. I figured now that I was older I could handle it. I guess not." I said, my arms still wrapped around his neck. "Well, I'm sorry. I hope you don't have too many nightmares because of that...do you want to watch something else?" he asked. I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. Hungry, but fine...and I need to go get a hotel. I've gotta go apartment searching tomorrow." I told him. "A hotel? Don't be crazy. You could stay here." he offered. "Mike, I don't know. I met you like a week ago...don't get me wrong, I think you're great, I just..." my voice trailed off. "It's fine. You don't have to explain yourself to me, Morgan. How about dinner? In or out?" he asked. "Hmm," I peered into the kitchen, "I can cook. What do you have here?" I asked. He laughed and rubbed my thigh."Umm, peanut butter, protein powder, and I think maybe some molded cheese." he replied. I crinkled my nose. "Out it is, I guess." I said. "We can order in." he suggested. "Or we could go get something and I could cook for you." I said. "Or that. Whichever you want to do." I thought for a moment before replying. "I say we go somewhere or order in tonight, and once I get settled into my apartment, I'll cook you dinner. How's that?" I said. "Sounds good to me." he answered.

Mike went to his bedroom and changed clothes while I quickly changed in his living room. He emerged wearing a pair of black dress slacks with attached suspenders hanging loose, a black button up shirt, and a gray vest, accented with a purple tie. "You like purple?" I asked. "Is it obvious?" he replied. "A little bit." I said, smiling. "Wait until you see my bedroom." he told me, holding open the door to his apartment. I gaped, lost for words. "That's...awesome." I said, unmoving. "Where do you think I got my catchphrase?" he said. I covered my mouth and walked forward, not speaking. "Is your favorite color pink?" he asked. "No, what gives you that idea?" I replied, looking up at him. He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. "You're blushing." he whispered, leaning down. My eyes closed, flashing back to the first night we met in Cleveland. I stood on my tiptoes and our lips met breifly before his cell phone interrupted our kiss. "I'm sorry. I'll just be a second." he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking back into his bedroom. I stood by the open door, waiting. He came back a moment or two later. "Who was that?" I asked. "My gi...uh, my friend...from work...you ready to go?" he replied. I nodded and walked out into the hallway and Mike followed, shutting the door behind him. I felt a bit uneasy but shook it off. It was probably just the onset of jetlag, I told myself. Mike and I went to Geisha House, a swanky Japanese restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. Mike paid, once again, though I protested, and we went back to his apartment to get my things. "Do you want to watch another movie? I promise it won't be a scary one." Mike asked as we walked back into his apartment. "Um...we can...I have no other plans." I said, sitting on the couch. He pulled a few movies off a shelf and brought them over to me. "Pick one," he said. I looked through the movies. There was romance, comedy, romantic comedy, spoof comedy, and a few cult classics. "Hmm...Dear John...though I must admit I can't believe you have it." I said, pointing. "Hey, it's a good movie." he said, putting the disc in the player and turning off the overhead light. He turned a lamp on and sat at the end of the couch. He skipped through the previews and went straight to the menu. "You ready?" he asked me. "Yeah. Play it." I told him. There was at least two feet of really awkward space between us. The first fifteen minutes of the movie went by and it seemed like neither of us breathed the entire time. I was sitting cross legged on Mike's couch and every now and then I'd glance at him out of the corner of my eye and I swear he was staring at me out of the corner of his. I pulled my knees up and rested my chin on them, concentrating on the movie. A few minutes later, I felt Mike scoot a little bit in my direction. I smirked to myself. He was trying to be smooth, I bet. I gave it ten minutes and his arm would be stretched out behind me on the couch. I was wrong. Within ten minutes, we were both lying down on the couch, my head on his left arm, his right arm thrown across me, a blanket on top of us. I felt my eyes getting heavier by the minute, I wasn't gonna make it to a hotel, I just knew it. I also knew that, despite the fact I had only met him twice and spent a grand total of maybe twelve hours with him, I could trust Mike. With that thought, I was comfortable enough to close my eyes and drift off to sleep.


End file.
